Even Boys Cry
by annakristinj
Summary: Anthony, a boy living during the times of World War II didn't think that the unimaginable things that were happening to the Jews could happen to him, since he was Catholic. Little did he know, he was wrong. After being taken to a camp, he befriends a boy named Bruno, who is cheerful and upbeat. He feels obliged to keep the boy safe, while also keeping himself alive.
1. Chapter 1

Wandering, wandering. That's what most minds ever do. They find or create their own hidden worlds to disappear from any sense of reality.

Granted, I wasn't wandering in my mind. I was wandering with my feet.

It was a light, beautiful summer's day of July, 1943. My family was back at our home, but I wasn't sure if I could take much more of that unfathomable abode.

We had recently moved into the rickety home after the war occurring back home. Mother had told the family it'd be safer. Father told the family not to speak of our religion.

We were all strongly devoted Catholics. We had never heard even the teachings of other religions. Mother considered it a bit drastic that we weren't allowed to know about them, but Father told us that the other religions were composed of lies and were unimportant. We know to listen to Father, or else he gets angry.

I was only wandering because it was lonely back home. My younger sister, Erin, had been sent off to America on her own 'for her own safety'. She had a host family in America who would take care of her until we were _all_ allowed to be brought to America. I only hoped that they treated the ten year old girl with the proper care.

It was a horrid day when I learned Erin was sent away. It was a cool, breezy day in April- Erin's favorite kind of weather. I was sprinting down the city's cobblestone streets, bubbling over with anticipation to tell the young girl of my exciting school day, since she was homeschooled. But as I walked into the grand home, there was no noise. A couple minutes later was when I learned about where Erin had disappeared to, and that we had to move to a safer home away from the city.

Interrupting the trail of memories was a loud 'honk' that resembled that of a train. My head immediately perked up, and I examined the ground around me. I realized that not more than a few yards away were train tracks.

 _Father had always told me to stay away from these_ , I thought, _maybe now I can learn why_. I backed away from the tracks, and just in time, as a large, brown square came barreling around the corner. I heard voices. It almost sounded like the voices were pleading for help. The train slowed to a stop directly in front of me.

I began to grow nervous. I quickly dived into a bush next to me, not realizing it was a rose bush. I let out a small yelp, but I completely froze.

Very, very slowly I hear the light tap of footsteps. I hold my breath as I cautiously look up. Right above me were two Nazis. I could easily tell from the black, red, and white armbands on that they were officials.

"I swear I just saw the boy!" Their accents were heavy, but thankfully I could understand them, as mother had homeschooled me for a couple years and taught me some of the German language. Not much, though. This soldier's voice seemed much younger, and reminded me of my own voice.

"Do you think he ran?" The other soldier asked. His voice was deep and growled like that of a lion. His voice made me shutter.

"If he did, he wouldn't get very far." The younger one points out. "They're sweeping this area." When the soldier pointed this out, I noticed him glance down towards the rose bush I was in. Did he know I was there? Was he trying to warn me about the sweep?

I heard the older soldier chuckle. He seemed like he was about to say something, but he was interrupted by some yells for help in the cattle-car.

"Quiet!" The soldier yelled at the cattle-car. Suddenly, a couple loud pops and a few screams came.

I gasped, falling backwards from the shock of the gunshots. I landed on a bed of rose thorns, and I bite my lip, trying my best to hold in my pain. But, it hadn't worked.

"Pierdolić!" I yelp.

I completely froze once more. I had forgotten about the younger soldier. I look up, looking up at him as I became more nervous than I already was. He was looking directly at me. We held eye contact for a good couple seconds. I thought I was absolutely dead. No way could I survive this. But, I was too stunned to move.

"Peter!" The old soldier barked at the one who had caught my eyes.

"Y-Yes, sir?" He quickly stands to attention, breaking his gaze with me.

 _So his name is Peter_..

"Did you see anything while I was at the cattle-car?"

This was it. My last few seconds alive. He was going to report me, and I'd never be heard from again. I'd get in trouble doing the one thing I loved to do.

To my shock, Peter shook his head. "No sir." He denied.

"Alright. Let's hurry, then. It's still a ways 'till we get to Auschwitz." The older soldier told Peter.

The soldier boy looked back down at me, a knowing look in his eyes. They then walk back to the cattle car. The train very gradually begins to move, growing faster and faster, until it disappears into the hills.

I was shocked. The soldier boy had lied to his commanding officer.

The _Nazi_ had lied about a hiding enemy.

I realize that he could've easily been killed if I was found. He was risking his own life for mine.

I wasn't sure what to do, until I remembered Peter's warning. They were going to sweep the area. I knew I had to get home as soon as possible. I started sprinting, running as fast as I was able.


	2. Chapter 2

I sprint down the gravel road, breathing heavily. I was racing a truck full of Nazis that I had seen driving towards the house. I try to think of an escape plan, but it's too in-the-moment to think of one that fast. I sprint into the familiar backyard, rushing through the backdoor.

"Nazis!" I yell as loud as I can. "Father! Mother! Come out! Hurry! They're coming!" I try to warn everyone.

I run up the stairs, banging on every closed door. "There's no time to pack anything! They'll be here any minute!"

I become confused as no one seems to answer my knocks.

"Mother!" I call out, my sprint slowing. "Father!"

The silence was unnerving, calming, and eerie. I look around the house, often glancing out the windows in search for the Nazi truck. For some odd reason, they hadn't made it yet.

"Mother..? Father..?" I say in my regular voice. I turn into their bedroom, completely freezing.

Everything was turned upside-down. The desk was flipped, papers were strewn everywhere, photo albums were broken, picture frames cracked, bed sheets completely ripped off the beds.

"Mother?" I quietly look at the rubble, a few tears falling down my cheeks. "Father?"

It was too late. Everyone and everything was gone. Even the fish, swimming around in their brightly colored 'underwater' home was tipped over. The pebbles were lying all over the floor, the ground still wet from where the tank had tipped over. Even the fish had disappeared from the destruction of the aquarium.

I take a few steps towards the rubble of the bedroom. What was I supposed to do now? Everything I knew and loved was either destroyed or stolen. I walk to my own room. Everything was also in shambles, everything valuable taken. I clench my fist as I realize they had taken the necklace I had, which had a picture of Erin. I never typically wore it, as it often created teasing, but I _always_ needed to know _exactly_ where it was.

I walk over to my desk, picking up a damaged picture frame. Thankfully, they hadn't taken the picture out. I take the small picture, folding it and holding it closely to my chest. It was my prized possession. I wasn't going to lose it to a bunch of men in multicolored cargo pants.

It didn't take much more until I stormed out of the shambled house in a fit of rage. Not only had I lost my family, but I had lost a place of shelter. Even if I didn't like it, I still had to call it home. But now, it was all gone.

I told myself to take things at a slow pace. First, I at least had to figure out where they were taken to. My immediate guess was a concentration camp, until I remembered overhearing some information about ghettos from Father.

Him and Mother were talking in low voices about what had happened to Father's barber, but I had gone close enough to the shut door that I could hear them mentioning the ghettos.

I also reminded myself, though, that that wasn't always the case. Sometimes, as I had also heard from the conversation as it had been brought up by Mother, that they occasionally went straight to the camps. I tried my best to stay hopeful that they weren't at the camp, but that doubt was always still lingering.

As I took wary steps from the house, I paid attention to even the smallest of noises. I had almost dove into another thorn bush when I heard the leaves rustling from a squirrel. I was insanely jumpy, but in a way, that was a good thing. I followed the tire tracks that were dug into the mud, but I constantly had to point out to myself that eventually, the tracks would be gone. I would be on my own for finding them once I reached the cobblestone streets, where no mud could be examined.

As I walked, I began to grow more and more comfortable with the natural surroundings. Looking back on it, I think that's where I began to trip up. That was when I stopped listening for noises, and that foolishness was about to pay a large price.

It took about an hour until I was finally noticed by a Nazi truck- but I didn't notice them. I was looking around at the occasional house that was popping up on the road, looking at the lovely alliums and marigolds growing around the edges.

"Hol ihn!" I suddenly heard someone yell.

I didn't know enough German for this. I wasn't able to tell what they were saying. But I had an idea when I turned to see quite a few Nazis running after me. I began attempting to sprint away, but it was hard. They had had years of training, learning to sprint faster and become tougher. I barely even could do a pushup without falling flat on my face.

It didn't take long for them to catch up to me. Two grabbed one of my arms, one had a grip on my shirt collar. I tried to fight back, but just like what I had mentioned earlier, they had years of training compared to my occasional jogging whenever I was late to classes.

One of the men literally tossed me into the back of the truck they had came from. They all sat right next to me, and they all still had grips on the same places they did before. When I saw that each of them were sitting next to a different kind of gun or weapon, I knew I was lucky to even be alive. Some before me probably weren't as lucky.

I sat in complete silence, until another one of them barked something out in German. I looked around at them, confused, until a softer-voiced man translated for me, saying,

"Where is your family?" His voice was still harsh, but not as horrid as the other man's.

The answer possibilities ran through my mind. I could tell the truth and say that they were already taken, which would probably lead them to questioning me on why I wasn't captured with them, or I could lie and say I was an orphan. I chose the second answer.

The man translated it to the German, and a few of the men laughed. The translator didn't tell me what he had said, though. It bugged me slightly, as I was quite hot-headed, but I tried not to think about what he might've said.

That was basically what the truck drive consisted of. Constant mockery in a different language I didn't even recognize. I wasn't sure where the truck was even going to- but I just hoped it wasn't a camp. I would've chosen anywhere else- just not a camp.

The truck suddenly stopped, lurching forwards. I glanced around at the soldiers, who were piling out of the truck. I followed them for the sake of my safety. If I did literally anything that would go against them, I'd be dead.

"Bewegung!" one of the soldiers poked me in the back with their gun. I still didn't know what it meant, but by their actions, I was guessing it meant 'hurry up'.

I became nervous as I looked around. It was definitely a ghetto- there was no mistaking that. I was grateful, but I was also still worried. I heard that being sent to a ghetto was worse than death. There were diseases, wild animals, very little amounts of food, and no clean water. If you didn't die from the equivalent of the ghetto's Black Plague, you'd probably die from starvation or thirst.

I shuddered as I recalled what people had said. I tried to imagine the brighter side of it. _If Erin was here, she'd pick one of the flowers,_ I thought, trying to calm myself. _She'd bring it to me and tell me to give it to someone special. I'd give it back to her and tell her I love her._

Another sharp poke in the back interrupted my thoughts. I trudged into the entrance of the ghetto. It surprised me that there were no gates at the entrance, but I soon realized that there were too many guards to even need a gate. Everywhere I looked, I saw the horrible distorted cross armband.

"Name," a man sharply said to me.

I was shocked that a soldier, like himself, would ask for my name. We had came to the entrance of the ghetto, where the man sat at a large, outdoor desk. It was covered in papers held down by stones to keep them from blowing away in the strong breeze. The horrible stench of the ghetto was being blown towards us because of the breeze, and I almost choked.

"Anthony," I answer half-heartedly.

"Age?" he asked. I mumbled an answer, but he hadn't heard me.

"Seventeen," I repeat, almost too harshly.

He leaned across the desk and slapped me square across the face. I was shocked, but I didn't make any movement back, still out of fear.

"Where's family?" His Polish was very broken.

I tried my best to remember what I had told the soldiers, but of course, I had messed it up before I could think too long about it.

"Well? Give answer!" the man looked angry again, and I quickly blurted out an answer before he could harm me again.

"They left for America without me," I tried to sound hurt, although it broke my heart to bring it up.

"Sie sagten uns, dass Sie eine Waise waren.." the man holding my shirt trailed off.

I was scared about what that had meant, because now they both looked angry.

"Is the truth?" the desk-man asked.

"What do you mean? What I told you is the truth," I replied.

I tried my best to stand tall and look like I was sure of myself, but I really wasn't. Whatever the man holding my shirt had said clearly annoyed the desk-man. That's when I realized I had told both of them two different stories.

The man's grip on my shirt tightened. I had lied to multiple Nazis. That could easily lead to a camp, or even worse, death.

The man began to drag me again. But this time, away from the ghetto. I knew where I was going when he dragged me to a large cattle-car. I recognized it as the cattle-car that I had seen Peter at, and where I had heard the pleas for help, and the pops.

I was completely beaten down. I could've attempted to run from the soldier, but I would've only been killed. But, now that I thought about it, I should've ran. The result would've been better than going to the camp I was going to.

I was pushed into a line of people that were producing the rancid smell. All around me were both women, men, and children wearing torn, dirty, stained clothing. Their faces were coated with dirt, as though they hadn't had access to water in days. They definitely smelt like it, too.

I looked around for someone that I would recognize. Maybe even Erin, but I knew that probably was a long stretch. I searched for my friends, enemies, maybe even a previous teacher. But, I still found no one.

The large line of people began to move, and I had no choice but to follow, even though now the soldier holding my shirt was gone. The impact from the rushing people was too strong.

We were pushed into the cattle-car. I could barely believe it. It must've been thousands of people fit into that cattle-car. It made me more scared than I already was. I wasn't sure how long this trip would be, but with my elbow pressed into someone's side and a knee pressed into my stomach, I prayed that it wouldn't be long. My head scanned the area for some source of food or water, but I saw nothing.

People began to leap forward. At first, I couldn't tell why. But then I saw that people were throwing bread into the cattle-car through the open door. I tried to see who it was that was throwing it, but through the mess of people, I couldn't.

With a loud crash, the door on the cattle-car was shut. Everything went dark other than the few slits on top of the cattle-car that produced small rays of sunshine. I closed my eyes, but the darkness was still the exact same.


	3. Chapter 3

I was close to somehow falling asleep in the cramped carriage until the complete silence was broken by a little girl crying. Everyone looked over at her, all desperate to help, but knowing they couldn't do anything. Until one older woman, who must've been in her seventies softly said,

"Child, don't cry. Do you want to hear a story?"

The little girl's sobs began to break apart, until slowly diminishing to silence. She nodded her head. Everyone else became interested in the senior's story, as they hoped it would shed some sort of light on the sad situation they were brought into.

When the woman first began to speak, her words came alive. She used great amounts of detail- details I can't even manage to describe a good seventy years later.

" _A long time ago, when I was a little girl, prayer wasn't shunned or looked down upon. It was celebrated, as it should be. On one fine, breezy summer's day just like this one, the biyearly carnival was coming to the town. People gathered from far and wide to come to the carnival, but only fifty were allowed in. I was one of the lucky ones, along with him._ "

The old woman pointed towards an also-older man, who looked almost a couple years older than she was. From how they were holding hands, I guessed they were married. It almost broke my heart to know an innocent couple like themselves was taken here.

" _It was one of the most exciting things at the time to have been allowed into it. I raced around the carnival, trying to win all of the games and ride all of the fun rides. But, there was one event that I wasn't able to manage on my own. For it you needed a partner, as it was an obstacle race. There were pits covered in mud, ropes to swing on, and giant, wobbly boards you had to stand on without falling. For those times, it was quite a grand idea to ever think of something along those lines. I almost immediately volunteered, but then I was told I needed a partner. I asked how long I had to find my partner, and they said I'd have about fifteen minutes until the game began. I told them to reserve me a place, and I sprinted across the bright fields of that carnival, searching for someone. I asked people from ages to seven all the way to people who must've had one foot in the grave.._ "

She chuckled as she remembered the story.

" _It didn't take long until I was close to giving up. I wasn't a very persistent girl. Until finally, Aleksander appeared. He promised me he would try his greatest to win, and so we did. After that we became quite good friends.. Took him about three years to finally propose. I remember him telling me after we began dating that someday we would go on a grand adventure. Then when he purposed, he said that the grand adventure was about to come after we took that step. Ever since then, I've never had my eye on anyone else.. Why would I if I have something perfect right here?_ "

The elderly woman smiled and squeezed the man's hand.

Everyone was smiling, and the little girl seemed to look content with the story. At least it had made the girl quiet.

"What a beautiful story," the mother of the little girl said. "Thank you for helping us."

"Of course," the elderly lady answered. "I hate to see children stuck in a sad position such as this one. They had done nothing wrong.." she then looked out towards all of us in the cattle car, "..none of us have."

Everyone nodded in agreement. Only then did I realize that this situation was much more horrible than it seemed. I looked around, looking at the children that had been entangled into this snare with us. There were babies who must've been only days old, and women who looked as though they would give birth in a couple days.

I tried again not to cry. Father inforced that law. Boys don't cry. Boy's don't cry. He repeated it into my head until I was forced to remember. I tried to repeat the phrase as I sighed, looking up at the small windows in the cattle-car. I wasn't able to see anything but the sky, which was mixed with the colors of orange, red, and yellow. I realized that the sun must've been setting when I looked back towards the people in the carriage. The girl was fast asleep, and the elderly couple looked as though they were attempting to sleep, but with every bump, the elderly woman winced from pain in her back.

Suddenly, something hard began to rain down onto my head. I looked up, putting my hands onto my head to block it, until I realized it was bread. I gasped as I outstretched my hands, trying to grab the pieces. This time, I didn't question who was throwing it to us. I ate all the pieces I caught, but soon saved around five pieces I had also caught, just in case I'd eat them later. Suddenly, I heard some screams from the outside and some pops.

Who had they just shot? What had happened?

I wasn't sure, but I also decided not to ask anyone, as they had equally the same view of the outside as I did.


	4. Chapter 4

The train stopped with a sudden jolt, 'awakening' me from the sleep I was attempting to get. Everyone almost immediately stood, eyeing each other to see if the others were as clueless as they were about what was happening.

"Kommen Sie heraus ekelhafte Kreaturen!" a man yelled at us.

We weren't sure who had yelled at us, or what he had said, but we followed his hand movements. I silently rejoiced when I stepped outside, smiling wide. Until I remembered I was going to a camp.

I scanned the scenery around us. It was all cement, stone buildings enclosed by a wire fence. There were guards at every corner, looking each and every person over for even the smallest detail of danger.

I looked up at the sign greeting us when we had entered the camp. It had said, "Arbeit macht frei". While I didn't know what it meant, I glanced around at some adults.

"What does that mean?" I heard someone whisper to another.

"Work makes you free," the person replied.

Work makes you free. Work makes you free.. Back then, I tried to repeat that phrase into my mind the same way Father had tried to make me learn that boys don't cry. But just like Father's phrase, it hadn't worked.

Everyone was lined up outside of the grounds. We watched as officers pulled out the bodies that had died on our way in the cattle-car. At first we had mourned them, but after a while of being in the car, we began to get used to it. I watched as the old woman and Aleksander were thrown onto the pile of corpses, both of them still very loosely holding hands. That tugged on my heart a little, but I continued to repeat Father's phrase. They had died a couple nights in. The old woman went first, and most believed she had just died in her sleep. Aleksander went the same way.

Suddenly, I heard some gunshots. My head turned almost immediately towards where I had heard the shots, and I saw a boy on the ground who must've been about eight years old, dead. He must've tried to run.

The officers made us all line up. If we were even an inch out of order we'd get shot. I couldn't help but wonder which camp this was, because of how strict the rules were, and how intense the punishments were after breaking one of them. The guards then pulled out all of the elderly, all of the twins, those who came out as a Gypsy, pregnant women, and smaller children. The twins were sent in a different direction, towards a place that looked almost like a laboratory.

All of the rest of the people taken out were sent towards a large, cement building. On a separate wing of the building, smoke was billowing out from the chimney. I wasn't sure what was inside of those buildings, but I only imagined it could've been something especially awful if they were handpicked to be taken out of the group of people.

They then split the men, boys, women, and girls into groups depending on gender. The women and girls were sent to the right, the men and the boys to the left. While the females had a straight path to where their barracks were located, we got to walk past the cement building.

While we were walking past, I tried my best to look through at least some sort of gap that must've been on the structure, but there was nothing. It looked completely airtight. Tight enough to the point that I couldn't even hear the voices of the people inside. That only made me more curious.

We were shoved into the barracks, and the interior of them startled me. There must've been at least only fifty beds, and there were more than five hundred people who were pushed into the building.

Everyone looked around at each other. The soldiers were gone now- they had left us to our own business inside of the barracks. Suddenly, almost every man dove towards a bed. While the beds weren't in the greatest quality, (the pillows stuffed with hay and the prominent lack of a mattress quite obvious,) they were still better than nothing.

I tried to dive towards one as well, but I was too late. About five grown men landed on top of me. I quickly slid out from underneath of them as they got into a physical fight over who received the bed. I decided to stand back. I, unlike them, preferred my safety over a fake, poorly-made bed.

A good hour later, after lots of chatting between the prisoners, an earsplitting ringing was heard. It was too familiar to the sound of a fire alarm for me to be able to stay calm. Soon, though, we understood why the noise was heard when we heard a threatening voice yell out a command in German. He then yelled,

"Come out!"

Everyone listened to his commands, other than two foolish boys. When the guards went inside to check if everyone came out, the familiar pops sounded. There went two perfectly innocent boys.

"Roll-call!" A German soldier spat.

Everyone must've stood up straighter at his horrible, raspy, horror-film-worthy voice He slowly made his way down the lines of horrified people. He didn't seem to be counting, though, which very obviously confused everyone.

"Everyone will be receiving a serial number. This is required. You will no longer be called the names you were given. You will be considered as your serial number by guards and prisoners both. Any word of using your given names, and you will gain a punishment," the soldier said sharply.

Every prisoner glanced around at each other, shocked. No one questioned the soldier though, for their own sake.

"Line up!" a soldier commanded.

Everyone quickly got into a line. It wasn't perfectly straight, but it was about the best they were able to do. I was pushed to the very back of the line, along with most of the other children who weren't as strong as the older men. They weren't able to push others away from the front like the men.

I tried to look overtop of the men's heads to see what we were lining up for, but I could see nothing. I continued to try to see, but it was impossible. The men were half my height. Even though I was a teenager, it didn't mean I was exactly all that tall.

Every now and then, I heard a loud ' _smack_ ' after a yelp, but I tried to ignore it. Whatever we were lining up for clearly wouldn't be the most wonderful thing imaginable.

As the line slowly made their way up to the source of the noises, I finally got sight of what it was we were going to. It was set up like a doctor's office, but instead of being inside in a room, it was outside in public. Needles were being put into the men's arms, creating numbers. The serial numbers we were going to be receiving. They started with 'A', then seemed to be numbers.

They were already on Prisoner A09080, who was directly in front of me. That would mean that I'd be A09081. I shook with fear after the man was taken off the table, his arm slightly bleeding from the new, forced tattoo.

A soldier grabbed my arm, throwing me onto the table. I was tempted to struggle again, but I couldn't. I could see that here, any sort of denial would result in death. It would be a very clear death wish to defy the soldiers.

I looked over at the man who was dressed as a doctor. Was he actually a doctor? He probably was just a guard who was forced to do this job. I glanced towards his nametag. His nametag said in bold letters, ' _ **Josef Mengele**_ '. Granted, that didn't help me learn if it was a guard or a doctor.

"Hold still, boy," he mumbled.

He grabbed my arm. I tried to jerk away from him, but a guard gave me a strong blow across my face. I became still after that. Very slowly, Mengele pushed the needles into my arm. I gasped as my eyes quickly closed tightly, but I couldn't escape from the pain. Even though they were only needles, they were _big_ needles. They weren't the smaller needles that were used for simple shots from a registered doctor.

I had known by now that I wasn't supposed to yelp, so I stopped myself from doing so. I try to steady my breathing as Mengele was still working.

The needles felt like an impossible-to-soothe sunburn. No matter how hard I tried to ignore the pain, it still came back, stronger than it was only seconds before.

Even though it felt like an eon, it was only five minutes before Mengele had finished the tattoo. Because of my rather not-so-strong body, the tattoo was forced to be smaller to fit on my arm.

Mengele looked at me for a couple seconds as though he was confused. He then looked up at the soldier that had directed me.

"He not cry or show pain.. He is strong boy." Mengele was still speaking in broken Polish, but I understood his meaning.

He was praising me for not crying or showing the hurt the tattoo was making me feel, unlike the other men. I wasn't sure why, but I almost felt proud. Mengele, a Nazi 'doctor', had actually made an effort of acknowledging me.

I looked over at the soldier, who looked down at me. His eyes shone approval, and for some odd reason, I had never felt so delighted. It was like making a usually-unpleasant teacher laugh. It made you feel happy yourself. I felt as though I shouldn't be proud, though. After all, if a Nazi showed favor for me, that wasn't a good thing.

"Come, A09081." The soldier told me. I nodded and followed him, where he lead me back to the barracks.

I walked inside, and he shut the door behind me. I was left with the other men now as I suddenly winced, my arm throbbing with pain. Other men were also wincing, and I realized, as I looked around, most of them were crying.

 _Boys don't cry. Boys don't cry._

I sigh, looking straight forwards as I take some steps towards where I was going to be sleeping. A hard, cold, cement floor in between two of the beds.

When I sat down in the space, I examined the other men around me more in order to get my mind off of my own pain. Some boys were full-on sobbing, as others were looking over their now-infected tattoos. I glanced at mine, just to make sure it didn't look infected. Sure, my arm was bleeding as though it was just bitten off by a rabid animal, but it also wasn't infected. I held my hand against the areas it was bleeding at as I bite my lip, still trying to ignore the blazing pain.

I stayed in my corner for quite a while as people came back in, one by one. All of them were crying. Obviously, though, since i was one of the last people, there weren't many after me. I watched as people walked past me, all of them immediately joining their loved ones or people they knew. I was alone. I had no one. No one was there to rescue me or to help me. No one was there to comfort me from my pain and suffering. So, I had to hold it all in.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hello," I heard a quiet voice greet me.

I looked up to see a little boy, smiling happily at me. He looked like he had no care in the world.

"Hello!" the boy repeated.

I couldn't help but smile. "Hi there.."

"What's your name?"

I was about to say my usual name, until I remembered the price we'd have to pay if soldiers figured out.

"A090-" I was interrupted by him shaking his head.

"No. Your real name. The one your parents gave to you," he said.

I stayed quiet for a couple seconds, but then said, "Anthony."

He smiled wider at me.

"I'm Bruno," he told me. "Are you Jewish too?"

I shake my head. "I'm Catholic."

I smiled at him. He was too innocent to be locked in a place like this. So young, so many questions, so much curiosity, so much happiness.

"Oh! Momma told me about Catholics. I heard that we're just like you," he tells me. "How old are you, Mister Anthony?"

"I'm seventeen," I reply with the same soft smile.

"Woah! I'm only nine. Papa told me that when I'm seventeen, we can move to America! Have you ever been to America?"

I shake my head again. I was a bit surprised that this boy could've been so talkative. Did he not know what he was soon to become? And to speak so joyously of his never-coming trip to America.. It also tugged on my heart about as strong as Aleksander and the woman did.

"Please.. I haven't even been out of Babice," I chuckle.

Babice was the town that the rickety, old house was located in. I honestly never had been anywhere else- other than a trip to France when I was about four. I obviously didn't mention that, though.

"You are now!" Bruno exclaimed with the same joyous voice.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"You're in Oświęcim, now," he answered.

"Oświęcim?" I still was confused.

"Yeah! It's where I was born.." he looked surprised that I wasn't aware of this. "Do you even know which camp we're in?"

I shook my head. I found it sort of embarrassing that a nine-year-old boy knew more than I did.

"We're in Auschwitz II," he informed me.

I was quite surprised at first, but then it became slowly clear. The harsh punishments that all of the people faced made sense, as Auschwitz was the deadliest camp that was known.. But why was there a second Auschwitz?

"There's two?"

"Mhm!" he nodded. "The first one was just the basic camps.. This one is created for almost things like experiments.. And gassing."

Experiments? Gassing? I was tempted to ask what 'gassing' was, but I didn't have enough time. The familiar blaring of the alarm was heard, and everyone knew what to do as they stepped out.

"To the mess hall!" a soldier called out.

Everyone got into one of the straight lines. That seemed to be the protocol here. The first man in line followed the soldier, the next following the man in front of him, so on so forth. There were soldiers leading us, all of them basically around us so there was no chance of running.

We were all brought into another cement building, but this one wasn't as airtight as the other one the people disappeared into. It had a few cracks in the walls, and a couple on the wooden floors. There were still guards every couple feet, though.

When everyone saw what was on display in the back of the building, everyone gasped and ran towards the guards that were giving it out. There were bowls of watered-down soup with some potato slices. The soup was so watered-down it may as well had been dyed water.

When I received my bowl, I looked around at everyone. People were shoveling it down, as we were all starving from the long cattle-car ride. But as soon as they had finished, they all looked quite green, as though they were extremely nauseous.

From this, I learned that I should probably eat the soup gradually and carefully. I took my time while others became nauseous around me. This wasn't quite as good of an idea, though, when the guards suddenly filled the room, taking from the prisoners. They took the slices of potatoes, eating them. I watched as they pried a bowl away from Bruno, who looked devastated.

I looked down at my own bowl. Very slowly, I lowered it below me, onto the floor. I watched, anxious, as some lost their bowls. I was pretty sure mine would be found, but it surprisingly never was.

Once the guards finally left and let us eat what was still there in peace, Bruno stared at his lap defeatedly. The guard had ate all of his food, not even sparing a potato slice for the small boy.

I stayed completely silent, until I sighed, holding my head in my hands for a couple seconds.

"Br-" I was about to call him over, until I remembered the serial number. While he was walking away earlier before we entered the mess hall, I had seen his number. "A09085!"

His head perked up, and he came over to me. He smiled, trying to hide the obvious sadness he was feeling.

"Hi Anthony!" he said with fake cheer.

I quickly shushed him, since he had used my real name. I glance around nervously at the soldiers. Thankfully, they hadn't heard his greeting.

"Here," I handed him my bowl swiftly, before I could take back the good deed.

He stared up at me, wide-eyed.

"You could get killed.." he softly said, looking up at me with an admiring glow.

"If I did? You have more of a promising life so far than I do. They could spare you.. You're young and capable of many things.. I'm a teenager whose education is lacking.." I chuckle, leaning over and ruffling his hair.

He smiled at me again, and then gave me a sudden, tight hug. I was a bit surprised, but I then hugged him back with a smile that was increasingly getting larger.

He then joined me, sitting down right beside me as he ate the soup. I tried to act as though I wasn't hungry, but I was yearning for the satisfaction of the watered-down soup. Even though it was tasteless, it was still food. That small bowl was the key to my survival, and I had just given it to someone else.

We didn't have much longer anyways until the guards made us all leave again. We were told to go back to the barracks, get some sleep, and be ready for a grueling day the next morning.

When we trudged back to the barracks, I collapsed onto the floor. I sighed, staring up at the mold-covered ceiling above. I was trying to tell myself that Mother and Father were alright. I was trying to tell myself that soon, I'd be out of here. I'd no longer have to be scared for my safety every second of every minute of every hour. But, I knew what I was telling myself was a lie. I didn't have a single trace for where Mother and Father were, let alone how I'd visit them if I _did_ find them.

I was forced to play in this game of tormenting.

 **-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

The first night was a mess. Every two seconds, a soft ' _drip drip drip_ ' was heard from some water leaking through the roof. Not to mention that everyone that was crammed into the little room seemed to snore. It sounded like thousands of bulldozers. Occasionally, you would also hear a little boy whispering something to someone else, in which the guard that was patrolling would give the boy a strong blow to his cheek, telling him not to speak again or there'd be worse consequences.

But, of course, that didn't stop Bruno from crawling over towards me. My eyes widened as I watched him make his way over to me. He dove under beds while the guards came around, his large eyes staring up at them in horror until they finally walked away. The guards hadn't even realized he was out of his spot as he crawled.

Eventually, he made it over to me. He grinned as he looked up at me.

"Hello, Anthony!" he whispered.

I glared at him, selfishly not answering. It was _his_ fault if he got punched, not my own. He was the one who chose to speak. I quickly felt bad afterwards, though, for my thoughts. He didn't know any better. Like any child, he was curious and amazed by the new place- even if it was a death camp.

"Hush. Go back there and go to bed," I spoke in a quiet voice, motioning towards where he had came from.

"I can't sleep," he told me.

"How am I supposed to help you with that?" I replied, raising an eyebrow.

"I dunno.." he trailed off, but then said, "you can tell me a story!"

I quickly shake my head. I would've, but again, we were still at the risk of gaining a consequence.

"Maybe later," I answered with a yawn, turning so I was facing away from him.

I shiver slightly with a sigh. The cement floor wasn't the most warm thing in the world. A couple seconds after I shiver, I feel a small bit of warmth behind me. I move my head, looking back, to see Bruno lying there next to me. His eyes were closed, as though he was asleep. I sigh again, but I also knew at this rate, I couldn't move him without some sort of risk from the guards. I let him stay the night.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning was ghastly. Everyone must've gotten the equivalent of, at the most, three hours of sleep, until the guards and soldiers woke us up again. Bruno was reluctant to wake up, but I quickly shook him awake. I didn't care as much about the men I didn't know, but I couldn't risk Bruno's safety just because he wasn't a morning person.

He groaned, but eventually stood. The men began pushing us out of the door again, and I held tightly onto Bruno's hand. I could only guess that as this rate, I was the only person he would've had left. Because of this, I decided to take his safety into my own hands. I didn't have that great of a chance to make it out, but a younger boy did. If I was able to keep him safe for a little while longer, he'd eventually make it out of here.

We walked back to where roll-call was being taken. We stood in the same line, and I was forced to let go of Bruno's hand as the guards called out the numbers. I nudged Bruno when it was his turn, reminding him to call out 'Present!' or something to show he was there before the soldiers could get after him for not answering on time, or whatever excuse. The guards would use even the simplest of excuses in order to hurt one of the prisoners.

Eventually, when roll-call was over, I was exhausted. The rest of the men, Bruno, and I were all about to walk to the mess hall, until the soldiers stopped us.

"The only meal you get is dinner," he looked at us and spoke as though he was shocked that we'd even get the chance to have two meals.

The men glanced around at each other. We all knew we were supposed to be shocked, but none of us really were. After all, with everything else that has been happening in this camp, this was one of the least surprising things that had happened. No one spoke, just like before. Now, the prisoners had wised up a bit and knew not to speak out of turn- especially against what the soldiers said.

"You're going to be put to work," another soldier said.

Again, everyone was quiet. They listened to the soldiers for their instructions of what to do and where to go.

"We'll split you into groups. Your group will finish your quota of work by sunset, or else you will gain a consequence."

Everyone imagined that the consequence wouldn't be anything simple. The Nazis then split everyone as they had said. I was pushed into a group of four older men. Bruno was put into a group of some quite gruff-looking teenage boys who must've been near my own age. He was the only younger boy.

A Nazi directed us towards the outer-edges of the camp. There, we were instructed to dig fifteen trenches by sundown. Everyone was still surprised, like how they always were with the insane rules and policies here, but, like every other time, no one said anything out of the same fear of death.

There were still soldiers around us, watching us, just to make sure we weren't going to run off. The entrance was only a couple yards away.. It was so close yet so far. Every time I even considered the idea of running out of the gates, just to test my luck, I quickly stopped myself from fantasizing about it after I took another look at the gleaming, polished guns that each Nazi held.

All the men took hold of a shovel, leaving myself with a rusty, older one. I sighed as I took the shovel in my hands. When I examined it for a while, I realized it was leaving a rust imprint on my hand. I groaned as I saw the copper color, but quickly went quiet. Even though the soldiers hadn't mentioned a consequence for complaining about your work, there still probably was one. Why wouldn't there be?

I tried to push my shovel into the ground, but it would barely budge. I swore that that ground was made of cement. I tried pushing harder, jumping on the shovel to see if it would make a difference, but still nothing moved. I glanced around at the other men to see if they were having the same problem, but none of them were. They were all able to start digging, while I was still struggling to even make a small indent in the grass.

I could tell the soldiers were all looking at me, and I heard some of them chuckle. I tried my best not to focus on them, still determined to make at least the smallest slice in the ground.

I moved my shovel slightly to the side, preparing to jump again, until suddenly it sunk into the ground underneath me, which caught me off-balance, making me fall into the hole filled with mud.

I can hear the soldiers laugh, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. I look at everyone around me, and I even heard a few of the men I was with start laughing. I glare at the men, but keep my look away from the soldiers. I then stand back up, starting to dig where the shovel had sunk, but I was caked in mud and exhausted already. I eventually began to slow down, but one soldier came up to me, hitting me _hard_ on the back of my head. I winced, trying to speed up again.

The entire day consisted of this torture. The only time we were allowed to eat was dinner, and it was the same madhouse as it was the first day. This time, Bruno and I both got our food stolen. There was no way of stopping the stealers, either.

Eventually, Bruno and I got our food stolen so often that we both became weaker and weaker. I was barely able to dig my trenches, and the soldiers were beginning to realize this, too. Because they were set on making me break, they pushed me harder and harder every day.

One day, I was close to giving up. Each day I prayed that I would fall asleep that night and never wake up. I was confused why in the world a teenage boy like myself had to go through this, and I was even more confused why Bruno, a growing boy, had to suffer through the camp.

 **-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

I was in the middle of attempting to dig a new grave for those who had died, a good couple weeks after I had dug my first time, when the overhead speaker clicked on.

"Prisoner A09081, please report with the nearest soldier to Doctor Mengele's office." The voice then repeated, "Prisoner A09081, please report with the nearest soldier to Doctor Mengele's office." The speaker clicked off.

Everyone around me froze, all of us dead silent. I wasn't positive why I was being told to go to Doctor Mengele's office. Had I done something wrong? People looked at me as though I'd never come back again, which frightened me. I had never met Doctor Mengele, nor have I ever met anyone who's met him. Maybe there was a reason why I knew no one who had met him.

I glance at one of the soldiers, and he slightly nods. He then takes my arm, but this time his grip wasn't as painful. As we walk towards a rather large, pristine, white building, I realized it was the laboratory I had seen my first day at the camp. We also pass by the cement building with the billowing smoke chimney. I still hadn't learned what that building was, but I also didn't intend to.

The soldier knocked on the laboratory door, and the door slightly opened a crack. It then fully opened after the person manning the door saw it was a soldier. The soldier pushed me into the laboratory, and the person immediately shut the door afterwards. I turned to face the person who had shut the door on the soldier. It was a taller man dressed in a white lab coat. His blonde hair was slicked back, his bright blue eyes piercing my own.

"Two lefts and a right," was the only thing the man had told me.

I slightly nod, still a bit lost as I take careful, gradual steps. I hadn't had this much "freedom" since the last time I was walking the forest. I walk through the winding halls, following the directions he had told me. They all looked exactly the same, but I still found where I was supposed to be. I ended my path at a door labeled with a gold nameplate. It read, ' **DR. JOSEF MENGELE** '. The eerie silence of the halls frightened me as I knocked on his door, the knocks echoing.

"Come in!" I hear a man's voice yell from inside the room.


End file.
